Cold Vengeance
by forensicsgirl
Summary: Love & Revenge: Story 1. The evidence never lies... When the evidence at a gruesome murder points to Sara being the killer, neither Grissom nor her other CSI collegues believe it. But who could hate Sara enough to frame her for murder?
1. Of Acid and Bugs

**Title – **Cold Vengeance

**Author – **forensicsgirl

**Pairing – **Grissom/Sara

**Rating – **T (PG-13)

**Authors Note:** Cold Vengeance is set early in season 5, right after Down the Drain/Harvest. I am a self-confessed Grissom/Sara-shipper, but didn't want to write a fic just about that, so I've not so cleverly concealed it within an ongoing case (albeit a very personal one). I'm planning this as the first of a series of stories and am already working on #2. All reviews are gratefully received. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it…

**Disclaimer**: As much as I would like to pass myself off as a genius, I'm not. Therefore, unfortunately, CSI does not belong to me. It you recognise something, I didn't make it up. All due fealty and worship go to Anthony E. Zuiker.

**Author's Note Addendum – **I've been archiving my fics on my website recently, as while I was re-reading them as part of that process, I discovered mistakes that had slipped through the cracks first time around. So I'm taking this opportunity to polish the entire series up and correct grammatical & continuity errors.

**Addendum to the Addendum... **Ahem, well, turns out I didn't catch all the errors last time I went through this. My wonderful beta, **Wobbear**, caught some more a while back, but I've only just found time to update this again.

* * *

**Chapter One – Of Acid and Bugs**

Police lights were red and blue strobes through the windows of the dank warehouse. Grissom peered through the gloom, his trusty maglite in his hand, the beam of which illuminated a truly horrific sight.

Mutilated, burned flesh. A man with no face.

'Acid,' commented Catherine. She crouched down at Grissom's elbow for a better look, wrinkling her nose. 'Hope for his sake it was done post-mortem'.

Grissom contemplated the scene for a moment, looking from the victim's non-existent face to his hands, which also bore the hallmarks of severe acid burns.

'So, was the perp being vicious? Or was he trying to hide his victim's identity? No way are we going to get any usable ridge detail off his hands,' he commented, finally looking at his colleague.

'There are always dental records. It'll just take a little longer.'

Behind them, Brass entered the warehouse.

'Just finished interviewing the two that found the vic,' he informed them. 'Couple of kids. Just came in to…' he sardonically glanced at his notes, '"hang out". I'm thinking it's more like make out. Though why anyone would want to come down here at four in the morning is beyond me.'

'The warehouse isn't in use?' Grissom wanted to know.

Brass shook his head. 'Doesn't look like it at the moment. I'm trying to get the owner on the horn to find out for sure. No sign of the victim's car, assuming he drove here.'

'Maybe he was driven,' Catherine suggested.

Brass shrugged as his cell phone started to ring. He answered before the second ring.

'Brass,' he said, moving outside the warehouse to get a clearer signal.

Grissom gently pulled back the victim's ruined shirt. Several beetles and maggots crawled over the body, around the large exit wound in the victim's chest.

'Oh, some of you're friends have decided to join the party,' Catherine wryly observed.

Grissom frowned. Gently extending a gloved finger, he picked up one of the beetles.

'There's something wrong here. This is a Carpet Beetle. And that…' he said pointing at another creature, 'is a Silphid Beetle. They belong to completely different stages of the timeline. The Carpet Beetle shouldn't be here yet.'

'Oh, yeah, I remember. The body-farm case. That type of beetle doesn't appear until the corpse is nearly a skeleton,' she said, looking around. 'But there aren't any other bodies here. Can't be cross-contamination this time, can it?'

Grissom considered for a moment. The conclusion he was forming wasn't a pleasant one.

'I think it might be worse than that Catherine. All these maggots are of different ages. I think the killer might have planted them,' he observed as he began to collect the entomological evidence.

'So we're looking for someone who knows enough about bugs to plant a whole mess of them on the body to, what… throw off the timeline?' Catherine got to her feet shaking her head. 'That's all we need, a killer who's as smart as you.'

'Well, we won't know much until I get these guys back to the lab for a closer look,' he said evenly, continuing his collection.

She moved away from the body for a closer look around the warehouse. The beam from her flashlight came to rest on a table, with a half-empty bottle of beer resting on top.

'Maybe our perp was thirsty?' she said wryly, stooping to get a closer look. Angling her light, she finally spotted what she'd been hoping for. 'Visible ridge detail.'

Grissom looked over and gave her a small smile. 'Maybe we got lucky and he got sloppy.'

Turning back to the body he spotted something that made him smile a little wider.

'Very lucky, even…' he commented, as he used his tweezers to lift a long, dark hair from the victim's clothes. 'Skin tag still attached.'

Catherine moved around the warehouse some more. She let a low whistle out.

'Look at that crater,' she remarked to Grissom. 'Looks like the perp used a cannon.'

A large hole was visible in the warehouse wall. Catherine shone her flashlight at it and bent closer for a better look.

'Bullet's deformed. It's opened out like a flower with really sharp petals,' she told him. 'I'm thinking high performance ammo. Someone really wanted this guy dead.'

'See if you can extract it without further damaging the bullet,' Grissom told her.

As he was about to move away from the body, he caught a glimpse of white, poking out from the victim's jacket pocket. Reaching in with a clean pair of tweezers, he withdrew a creamy piece of paper.

'Catherine?' Grissom called in a worried voice.

'Yeah?'

'Killer left us a note.'

Grissom stared at the note. Its words set alarm bells off in his head.

_**Follow the evidence**_

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	2. The evidence never lies?

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Two – The Evidence Never Lies?**

The victim had been in perfect health, with the exception of the large caliber bullet that had pierced his back just bellow the 5th thoracic vertebrae, transecting the spinal cord before exiting mid-chest, leaving a huge exit wound. Aside from that, the victim bore no other injuries, apart from the devastating acid burns that covered his entire face and hands, which Dr Robbins determined had happened post-mortem. There were absolutely no defensive injuries, no sign of struggle.

The time of death wasn't too hard to pin down.

'Liver temp and the extent of rigor are telling me that he'd been dead no more than 3 hours when those kids found him, Gil,' the Doc told him. 'Maybe even a little less. Lividity wasn't even fixed when David examined him at the scene.'

'He was found at around 4am, making time of death approximately 1am?' Grissom confirmed.

'Yes,' the Doc replied. 'I don't know who this guy thought he was fooling by throwing bugs into the mix.'

'Yeah, it was obvious they hadn't appeared naturally,' Gil replied. 'But the question remains, how did they get onto the body? Cross-contamination from another DB we haven't found yet? Or deliberate planting?'

'Maybe our killer didn't think we'd find the body this quickly. Was hoping his bugs would have more time to do their thing,' the Doc suggested.

'Maybe,' replied Grissom. 'Or maybe he's trying to tell us something…'

* * *

Grissom left the morgue and headed back to the lab. Outside DNA he bumped headlong into Greg Sanders, who looked both alarmed and very confused.

'Watch out, Greg,' Grissom said, exasperated. 'No running in the lab.'

'Grissom. I was just coming to find you. Something's… come up.'

Grissom followed him as he returned to the lab. Greg had recently begun to work out in the field with the rest of the CSIs, but a variety of difficulties regarding finding his replacement meant that he still had to put in time in DNA.

'What's up?' Grissom asked. 'Has the DNA come back on that hair?'

'That's the problem. It has. But… it has to be wrong. Unless…' he paused, looking hopeful. 'Was Sara working that call with you?'

'Sara?' repeated Grissom, puzzled. 'No, it's her night off. What's going on Greg?'

'It's her hair.'

Before Grissom could begin to process this, Catherine bustled into the lab looking worried.

'Grissom. We've got a problem.'

'Not another one.'

'The print on the beer bottle? It's Sara's.'

* * *

A far away pounding noise began to stir her senses. Slowly, as she started to come to, certain sensations made their presence known. First was the gnawing nausea in her stomach. Then came the pounding in her head. Finally, as she opened her eyes slowly, she realised from the pain in her neck that she had somehow slept on the bathroom floor all night.

Sara sat up slowly, fighting the urge to vomit. Raising an unsteady hand to her face, she felt her clammy skin. Something was definitely not right.

The pounding came again, and she finally realised that it wasn't in her head, but on her front door.

Grissom pounded again. Brass stood restlessly at his side.

'Take it easy, Gil, will you? I'm surprised you haven't broken something yet,' he said, eyeing his colleague uneasily. He had never seen Grissom this upset in all his years of working with him.

Finally the door creaked open. Sara looked like death. Her normally shiny dark hair lay lank around her ghostly pale face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked like she could barely stand.

'Grissom?' she asked, looking confused. 'What's wrong?'

'What's wrong?' Grissom said incredulously. 'Where the hell were you last night? What happened? Were you drinking?' he quizzed her, his anger mounting with every word.

'Easy, Gil,' Brass warned.

'What? Last night was my night off. I met a friend. I came home. What the hell is going on?' Sara replied, half-scared, half-furious at Grissom's attack. 'And, no, I _wasn't_ drinking.'

'You look like hell,' Grissom answered back, walking past her into the apartment. It vaguely crossed his mind that he'd never been here before.

'Gee, thanks,' Sara said ironically. 'Please, come in.'

Brass hesitated, and then followed Grissom into the apartment, closing the door behind him. Sara moved to the couch and sat down, looking as though she no longer had the strength to stand.

'Look, Sara,' Brass started. 'Some evidence has turned up in a case we got last night. It's pointing at you.'

'What?' was all Sara could manage. She looked from Brass to Grissom, who was staring at her intently, as though trying to read her thoughts. 'What evidence?'

'Finger prints. DNA from a hair,' Grissom told her. He sat down opposite her, placing his elbows on his knees as he sat forward, never taking his eyes off her. 'The hair was on a male victim. The finger print was on a beer bottle beside him. How did it get there, Sara?' His voice was calm. Too calm, Brass thought.

'I don't know. I…' Sara stammered, completely lost. 'I don't understand.'

'Can you tell us where you were last night? Who you were with?' Brass wanted to know.

'I went to the bar at the Tangiers. An old friend from college is staying there. She just flew in from LA yesterday. We talked for a little while, then… then I came home. I don't remember anything else after that. I must have fallen asleep.'

'Sara,' Grissom's voice pulled her gaze back to him. 'Were you drinking?'

'No. No, Grissom, I swear,' Sara looked scared, but more than that, she looked earnest. She had to make him believe her. 'I haven't had a drink since… well, since _that_ night. I wasn't drinking. I had an orange juice. I only stayed at the bar for 45 minutes. An hour at most.'

'Then what happened?' Brass pressed her gently.

'I went out to my car…' Sara hesitated. 'I came home…'

'You're leaving something out, Sara.' Grissom knew this woman. He knew that she was always forthright and honest. But for some reason, this time she was holding something back.

'I don't remember,' she finally admitted in a small, scared voice. 'I remember leaving the bar. I vaguely remember getting to my car… but then, nothing. I don't remember driving myself home…' She looked into Grissom's steely blue gaze, desperately trying to tell if she believed him. 'But, I swear to you, Grissom. I wasn't drinking.'

Grissom looked at her. Her dark brown eyes burned with an intensity he hadn't seen in a long time. She wanted him to believe her. But more than that, he saw the fear in her eyes.

'I believe you.'

Three words. Three small words, but they meant so much to her. She let a small breath of relief escape her lungs. But that tension was quickly replaced by an even bigger anxiety. What had happened to her last night?

Grissom sat back, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose as he processed what Sara had just told them. His ever analytical mind began to format an opinion.

'Sara, you might have been drugged,' he told her. 'That would explain the disorientation, the memory loss. We should get you to the lab. Run a blood test.'

'Right. Let me grab a shower and…'

Grissom shook his head regretfully. 'You can't, Sara. You might have evidence on you.'

Sara sighed resignedly. 'Let's go then.'

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Worrying Developments

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Three – Worrying Developments**

The woman sitting opposite Catherine in the Tangiers suite could have been Sara. Jill Davenport was young and fresh-faced – in her early 30s but easily passing for a woman in her 20s. Dark hair fell loose about her shoulders.

'Is Sara okay?' she wanted to know, a look of deep concern in her eyes. 'I thought she was really street-smart. Otherwise I would have made sure she got to her car okay.'

'There's some concern that she might have been drugged last night. Can you remember everything about your evening with her? What you both drank? Who might have had access to your glasses?' Catherine asked her.

Jill thought for a moment. 'Sara only had one drink. Played with it for a while, if I remember correctly. I don't know what she was drinking. She was the one who went to the bar.'

'What was your impression? Beer, wine, spirit of some kind?' Brass pushed her.

'Orange juice,' Jill replied. 'It looked like orange juice. Of course, she might have had something else in it, but I don't know.'

'And what did you have?' Catherine asked.

'Campari and soda.'

'And what time did Sara leave?' Catherine went on.

'Um, around 11, I guess. Maybe a little before,' answered Jill. She paused, apparently thinking about it. 'Yeah, I think it was maybe ten to 11.'

'You guys hadn't seen each other in a while, right?' Brass took over. 'Why would she meet up with you at 10pm, only to leave maybe 50 minutes later? Didn't you two have a lot to catch up on?'

'Well, you know Sara…' Jill answered cryptically. 'Come to think of it, she didn't really seem to be in the mood. Kept looking around her. Uneasy. Checking her watch. Like there was somewhere she had to be. I asked her if she had to work, but she said it was her night off.'

'Back to the drink,' Catherine interrupted, not liking the implication of what she was hearing. 'Did anyone come near it? Was it brought to the table by a waiter, maybe? Did Sara leave the table at any point? Maybe to go to the ladies room?'

'Nope,' Jill answered. 'Like I said, Sara went to the bar, brought the drinks to the table herself. And she didn't leave the table until she said she was going home.'

* * *

The whole team was assembled round the table in the break-room. Sara sat facing Grissom, hugging a large sweater around her as though freezing. She had never felt so exposed.

He had insisted on processing her himself. After he had drawn her blood, Grissom had proceeded to collect evidence from her. Fibres from her clothing. Skin from under her finger nails. Now she sat at the table with them in silence, as the team attempted to figure out their latest bizarre case.

'Planted finger print. Planted hair. Planted bugs. Is there anything about this crime scene that wasn't staged?' Nick wanted to know. 'And why Sara? Why is our prep trying to point the finger at her?' He was taking this personally, remembering all too well when he was falsely suspected of murder.

'Well, the finger print was planted on the outside of the bottle, but our guy didn't bother with the inside,' Catherine added. 'No saliva, just beer. When anyone drinks from a beer bottle, you can always expect to find some of their saliva mixed with the contents. Backwash. But, in this case, zip. Means the perp probably emptied the beer out of the bottle before placing the print. Maybe to make it look like Sa… someone had been drinking from it.'

Catherine cast a nervous glance at Sara, who had yet to react to anything being said.

'No other prints anywhere else around the body, though. Including the note. Perp was clean.'

'Not that clean. Your perp may have left a print on the shell casing y'all recovered,' interjected Bobby Dawson as he strode into the break-room. 'Finger print came back as unknown. Jacqui asked me to run the results over to you, since I was coming this way myself.'

Warrick shook his head, confused. 'That's kind of sloppy for someone who took such care to leave nothing but planted evidence. Prints on bullet casings are an amateur mistake.'

'What about the bullet?' Grissom wanted to know.

'Matched the one I test fired from the, uh…' he paused, glancing at Sara. 'From the gun, y'all brought in.'

'So, it was _my_ gun,' Sara stated in a dead voice. 'This keeps getting better and better. Brass will be in here to arrest me any minute.'

'No one's going to arrest you,' Grissom told her. 'My gut's telling me you were drugged. Wouldn't have been hard for our killer to take your gun, use it and return it before you came to.'

'You finger print wasn't on the casing Sara,' Catherine went on. 'And I think it's a safe assumption that you don't use the type of ammo we found at the scene. You use Hydra-Shok, like the rest of us, right?'

Sara nodded.

Catherine went on, 'Well, the bullet we recovered looked to me like a Black Talon. Am I right, Bobby?'

'Close,' the ballistics expert replied. 'Winchester took the Black Talon off the market a while back. Brought out the Ranger STX, known as the Ranger Talon. Potato, potah-to though. Does exactly the same job. Very destructive.'

'You can say that again,' Grissom replied. 'Cut like a buzz-saw through the victim. Would have kept going too, if it hadn't hit that concrete wall. You have a chance to look at it yet, Bobby?'

'Yeah. Not much to see though,' Bobby answered. 'Got ripped up pretty good with the impact. We're not going to get much from it.'

'Thanks Bobby,' Catherine said when Grissom didn't reply. Bobby nodded before leaving the room.

'So someone took my gun, reloaded with Talons, getting their fingerprints on the bullet casing, and then loaded it again with my own ammo?' Sara reasoned. 'Why change ammo if the gun was already loaded?'

'The talon is high performance,' Grissom told her. 'Incredibly destructive, like Catherine said. It was over-kill. Someone wanted to make sure they'd kill our victim with one shot.'

'So, if they weren't wearing gloves, and their print is on the bullet they fired, doesn't it stand to reason their print might be on my ammo?' Sara reasoned.

'Your bullets are with fingerprints now. They're the next run,' Nick told her.

'Okay, so the perp is trying to throw us a curve by planting Sara's print and hair. But why the bugs? To throw off time of death?' Warrick wanted to know.

'Well, that he didn't accomplish,' Grissom answered. 'The Doc places time of death around 1am this morning. That warehouse was empty, but it was used on a semi-regular basis, so there was no real guarantee that the bugs would have time to do their thing before the body was found. Which makes me think there's more to the bugs than just trying to screw up our crime scene.'

Grissom was doing a good impression of being all business, but Catherine could tell that every word was causing him effort. She had never seen him this worried, or this lost.

'And what was with the note?' Nick wanted to know. 'It almost sounds as if the killer's quoting you, Grissom.'

Before he could answer, Judy rapped on the door, carrying a package.

'Sorry, Dr Grissom. A courier just dropped this off. It's marked _Urgent_, so I thought I'd better bring it straight to you.'

Taking it from her, Grissom mumbled a vague _'Thanks'_. He began to brief his troops.

'So, we got time of death, but identification's being held up 'til we can get hold of dental records. Nicky, start looking into missing persons. Males, who've gone missing in the last 48 hours, for starters. Warrick, check out the warehouse. It's part of an industrial complex, so they should have some kind of CCTV. Try and talk to the owner. Find out who might have had access.'

Nick and Warrick rose to their feet, glancing at Sara with concern on their way to the door. She looked up as they moved passed and gave them a brave smile. Grissom tore open the envelope and began to reach inside.

'See you later Sara,' said Nick, supportively.

'Take it easy,' Warrick added.

'Catherine…' before Grissom could continue, Greg arrived at the door.

'Uh, Grissom…' he began hesitantly. 'Can I have a word outside?'

Sara looked at Greg, but he couldn't meet her eyes.

'Greg?' she asked, fear starting to prickle at her. 'Did you get the results of my blood test?'

'Uh, well, yeah… Um, Grissom.' Greg shifted uncomfortably, still not looking directly at Sara.

'Greg,' Catherine began evenly. 'Sara has a right to know…'

Greg hesitated again. Finally he raised his eyes to look at Sara. He looked at her with such sorrow, like a man who had finally been faced with the reality of what he did.

'Sara, you _were_ drugged,' he finally said.

'What was it?' her voice small now.

'Rohypnol.'

Grissom's hand had stilled inside the envelope. Catherine looked from him to Sara, unable to determine who was more devastated by the news. The look on Grissom's face turned from horror to confusion. Slowly his withdrew his hand from the envelope, bringing with it a pale green thong and a note.

'What the…?' he started, picking up the note without thinking. Unfolding the paper, he read the single line and dropped it to the table.

_**Concentrate on what cannot lie…**_

Sara looked from Grissom's face to the satiny green material in front of him. A sudden realisation struck her.

'Those are mine.'

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	4. A Special Case

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Four – A Special Case**

Grissom had to get out of there. Scooping the contents of the envelope back into its confines again, trying to avoid touching the note in the vague hope that he would not further compromise any prints that might be present, he gave it to Greg to take to DNA, trace and fingerprints. After telling Catherine to look after Sara, he stormed off to his office to calm down.

His emotions had been threatening to get the better of him since Sara's DNA and fingerprint had shown up at his crime scene. But now those emotions were dangerously close to erupting, and that he could not afford. He had to keep calm, not lose his head. For the sake of the case. And for Sara.

He looked down at his shaking hands and was startled to see his white knuckles clenched fiercely around his coffee mug. He didn't remember picking it up.

Suddenly he was overcome with rage. Tightening his grip on the mug, he pulled his arm back and hurled it at the wall.

'Son of a bitch!' The words boiled out of him in unfettered fury.

'Guess there's no point in asking if you're okay.'

Grissom had no idea how long Catherine had been standing there.

'I thought you were with Sara,' was all he could say.

'Ladies room, washing her face. I'm taking her to the hospital now for… for a sexual assault exam,' Catherine edged into the office, looking worried. 'What are _you _going to do?'

'Work the case,' he answered sullenly. He moved to his chair and sat down, suddenly needing to put his desk between himself and Catherine's penetrating gaze.

'Can you? Objectively?'

Grissom glared at her. 'What the hell's that supposed to mean?'

'Well, you're not exactly your usual detached, analytical self now, are you?' Catherine moved closer to the desk. 'It's Sara. It feels personal to all of us. But for you…'

Catherine hesitated, not sure if she should push him now. But then, she'd never really been one to skirt an issue.

'If it were any of us, you'd do your damnedest for us. I know that. But Sara, she's… special.'

When Grissom could no longer hold her gaze, he looked away and sighed.

'Right now, she's evidence.'

'So, we'd better go process me then,' said an oddly detached voice.

Grissom looked up to see Sara in the doorway, looking lost, and scared, but mostly stung by what he'd just said.

'Sara,' he started, not sure what to say.

'I'm ready to go Cath,' Sara said, ignoring him.

She turned and hurried away from the office towards the car park. Catherine looked at Grissom and shook her head before following Sara out. Grissom cradled his head in his hands.

'You're an asshole, Gil,' he berated himself.

* * *

Warrick's eyes went briefly in and out of focus as he stared at the small screen in front of him. Nothing moved. He'd gone through hours of footage, and no one had gone near the door of the warehouse, even during the day leading up to the crime.

'Anything yet?' Nick's Texan drawl inquired as he entered the AV lab. Warrick shook his head without tearing his gaze from the screen.

'Nothing. No one went near the place all day. But it's got me to thinking. If our perp was casing the place, watching it for any length of time, they'd probably think that the warehouse was totally abandoned. But I have it from the owner of the industrial park that it was only going to be vacant until tomorrow.'

'So our guy might have thought that his bugs would have plenty of time to decomp the body before it was found? Any reason to think that he might have known the warehouse was going back in use?' Nick wanted to know.

'The owner doesn't seem to think so. It wasn't a secret. But no one outside of the company would have had any reason to know.'

Nick thought for a moment. 'Are you checking into the employees?'

'Brass is on it,' Warrick replied, finally looking away from the screen. 'Checking for anyone with a record or a grudge. But right now, we've got nothing. It's kinda hard when we don't know who the victim is. How'd you go with the missing persons reports?'

'Narrowed it down to 8 possibilities, based on our vic's height and weight. O'Reilly's tracking down dental records. Hopefully won't take too long.'

Nick looked at the screen. Suddenly, something caught his attention.

'Heads up man,' he told Warrick.

A dark coloured SUV had pulled up in front of the warehouse door. A figure in dark slacks and a jacket got out, wearing a black hat they both recognised.

'That looks like…' Nick began.

'Sara,' Warrick finished. 'Her coat, her hat, her car even.'

'What's the time code say?' Nick asked his partner.

'1 am,' Warrick replied.

'So Sara left the bar at 11pm. Everything's blank after that. Gris and Brass were at her house by 7am this morning,' Nick started to lay it out.

'But according to Greg, the amount of rohypnol in her system was enough to have her unconscious for at least 8 or 9 hours.'

'Meaning that she must have been out of it by 1 am this morning. No way is that her,' Nick concluded.

'Meaning someone, what? Drove her home, and then took her hat, coat and car to the warehouse. Killed our vic, and left Sara's car back at her apartment before 7 am this morning,' Warrick thought aloud.

'Tells us something else, partner,' Nick replied. 'Look at the perp's build. Our killer's a woman.'

* * *

No matter how many assault cases she had worked, nothing prepared Sara for going through a sexual assault examination herself. The humiliation built up inside her chest until it was almost too painful to breathe. Tears threatened to breach the defences of her eyes, but she refused to cry. Not here. Not now.

When it was over, Catherine sat in a chair near her, offering her unspoken support while the doctor went through her findings. Sara was grateful she was there.

'I can't find any evidence of sexual assault, Sara,' the doctor began. 'There's no evidence of sex taking place in a while.'

Sara felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest.

'You're sure?' Catherine wanted to be sure.

'As sure as I can be,' the doctor replied. 'There's no sign of injury, the clock's completely clear.'

Sara was too caught up in her relief and remaining confusion to speak. Slowly she lowered her feet to the ground and got off the examination table.

'I'll leave you to get dressed,' Catherine told her, squeezing her arm and giving her a quick smile. She and the doctor left the room.

In a daze, Sara quickly put her clothes back on. _I'm burning this damn outfit when I get home_, she thought absently. All the emotions of the past several hours started to build up again. The confusion, the pain, the fear… and still the nagging knowledge that she still didn't know what had happened to her, who had drugged her, or why her fingerprint and hair had wound up at a crime scene.

When she left the exam room, Catherine wasn't around. Standing opposite the door, leaning back against the wall was Grissom. He looked up as she closed the door, his blue eyes filled with regret.

'Hey,' he said simply.

'Hey...' she started to reply, before everything became too much for her. The tears she had held back throughout her exam broke through her barriers, and Sara wept.

Suddenly she felt his arms around her, holding her up, clutching her sobbing, grief-wracked body to his chest, giving her all the warmth and support he could muster. Grissom let her cry, sobbing into his shoulder like a lost child. Gently he stroked her hair.

Grissom wanted nothing more in the world than to take all her pain away, to give her comfort and solace. He had felt so utterly helpless, and though he still felt that way, he finally got it. He might not have all the answers yet, he might not be in control. But he could be there for her.

Slowly, Sara got her breathing under control, and the tears slowed. She gently pulled away from him and looked up at his concerned face.

'What are you doing here?' she asked him.

'I wanted to be here for you,' he told her. A look of guilt crossed his face. 'And to apologise. I'm sorry about earlier. I was an asshole…'

'Its okay,' she answered gently. 'It means a lot that you're here.'

'Come on. I'll take you home.'

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Lowering Defences

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Five – Lowering Defences**

Catherine walked back into the CSI labs with one worry eased and another just beginning to present itself. She hadn't spoken to Sara about what her friend, Jill, had said. Sara had seemed so fragile, so scared. So unlike herself. Catherine didn't know how to broach the subject with her yet.

As she rounded the corner towards the AV lab, she met Nick and Warrick, who looked like men with a mission.

'What's up, guys?'

'We were just coming to find you or Grissom,' replied Nick. 'Warrick found something on the CCTV tape.'

'Our perp is a woman,' Warrick continued, leading Catherine back into the AV lab. 'Looks like she stole Sara's clothes and car and went to the warehouse. Footage shows her arrival at around 1am. Then at 1.15am…'

Warrick pressed play on the VCR. Another car pulled into frame, and a larger figure, a man this time, got out and started towards the warehouse. After he had gone inside, Catherine spoke.

'Looks like our vic. Pity the angle on this thing is so bad, we'll never get a good shot of his face. Or our killer, for that matter. What happens next?'

'Twenty minutes later, our suspect comes back out and gets in the vic's car.'

'Twenty minutes,' Catherine mused. 'Enough time to shoot him, pour the acid, plant the bugs and beer bottle and get the hell out of dodge.'

'More than enough time,' countered Nick. 'She could have done all that in 5 minutes. 10 tops. What she do for the rest of the time?'

'Watch the acid do its job?' Catherine replied. 'What about Sara's car? It wasn't there when we got called to the scene at 5am.'

'2.32 am, she comes back for Sara's vehicle. I've tried to enhance her face, but no joy. It's like she knew where the camera was and kept her face pointed away from it,' Warrick told her.

'Less than an hour. And maybe she had to come back to the warehouse on foot,' Catherine reasoned. 'The victim's car can't be too far away.'

'I'll get in touch with Brass, start the search,' Warrick replied.

'Good idea,' Catherine replied, before turning to Nick. 'Call Grissom on his cell and let him know what you guys found out. He'll want to get Sara's car processed. See if our suspect got sloppy.'

* * *

Grissom ended his call with Nick as Sara came out of the bathroom wearing a clean pair of sweats and towel drying her hair.

'You look better,' he told her.

'Yeah, nothing like a hot shower and clean clothes,' she replied, flashing him a soft smile. 'Who was that?'

'Nick,' he told her. 'Warrick got something on the CCTV tapes. We've got our timeline. Killer arrived at the warehouse at 1am. The victim got there 15 minutes later and it was all over by 1.35. And it looks like our killer might be a woman.'

She sat down on the couch opposite him as he relayed everything that Nick had told him.

'I don't know where they are,' she said of her hat and jacket. 'In my car, maybe? I haven't been in it all today.'

'Give me the keys and I'll check it out,' Grissom replied, getting to his feet.

Leaving her pacing nervously, Grissom exited the apartment and walked down to Sara's SUV. Nothing looked disturbed, no sign of forced entry. Of course, he though, with Sara drugged, getting her keys wouldn't have been too difficult.

Working on a pair of gloves, Grissom unlocked the door and opened it, touching as little of the handle as possible. His flashlight didn't pick up anything suspicious in the front seat. Moving to the back of the car, he popped the trunk.

Sara's hat and jacket were folded neatly, with a familiar note resting on top. Getting a pen out of his breast pocket, Grissom gently unfolded it.

_**If you want to learn about forensics, master everything else first…**_

_**Have you, Dr. Grissom?**_

Grissom's hands shook slightly as he dialled his cell phone.

'Nicky?' he said into the receiver. 'I need you at Sara's right away. We need to tow her car back to CSI for processing. And it looks like the killer left another note.'

Hanging up, he started processing, collecting some hairs and fibres. He then went back into the apartment and gazed at a troubled Sara. She stood with her head in her hands, leaning against the breakfast bar in her small kitchen.

'God, I need a drink,' she told him without looking up.

'Sara…' Grissom said gently.

'Kidding,' she countered, looking at him. 'It's the stress talking. Someone coming for the car?'

'Yeah. Nick should be here soon,' he told her. 'Your hat and jacket are in the trunk.'

'And…?' she asked, looking at him closely. 'What else did you find?'

'How do you know I found anything else?' he asked defensively.

Sara gave a half-hearted smile and moved to the couch, sitting down. 'You look like you're about to explode, Griss. You have to have found more than just my hat.'

Grissom shrugged, defeated.

'Can't put anything past you, can I?' he told her, as he followed her lead and sat down. 'There was another note.'

'Quoting from the wit and wisdom of Gil Grissom?' she asked with a hint of irony.

'Pretty much,' he answered, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew the plastic envelope he had slipped the note into. Hesitating slightly, he handed it to her.

'_If you want to learn about forensics, master everything else first_,' she read aloud. 'Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard you say that. _Have you, Dr. Grissom?_ So, our killer's engaging with you directly. Admitting that she's quoting you, maybe?'

'Or calling me on what I've said. Have I mastered everything else?' Grissom stated. 'Sounds kind of personal. Like she's suggesting I haven't.'

'And, have you?' Sara asked him, looking up from the note.

Grissom's normally guarded blue eyes looked vulnerable for a moment as he met her gaze. He hesitated a moment before answering.

'No.'

'And you think the killer knows this?' she wanted to know.

Grissom thought for a moment.

'The notes. The bugs. The fact that she's coming at me through you. All that suggests that our suspect know me. And anyone who knows me knows that there are… certain areas of my life that I am not master of.'

'What makes you think they're coming at you through me? Maybe it's about me, and you're collateral damage?'

Grissom regarded her strong face, her eyes burning with indignation at the suggestion that she was incidental in all of this.

'I think it's about both of us,' Grissom told her. 'Someone who knows enough about both of us to know how we operate. Someone who knew where you'd be last night.' He paused, uncomfortable with his next, necessary question. 'How close are you to your friend Jill?'

'You're thinking she had something to do with this?' Sara shook her head. 'Two years ago, I'd have said no way. We've known each other since college. But, if the last two years have taught me anything, it's that I don't know shit about people.'

Before he could question her further on that perplexing statement, the doorbell rang. Sara got to her feet and answered the door to Nick, who immediately gathered Sara up into a bear hug.

'You okay?' he asked her, his voice full of concern.

'Yeah,' she told him, stepping back from the door to let him in. 'Griss is looking after me.'

Grissom didn't miss Nick's raised eyebrow at this statement, but Nick had the good sense not to pass comment.

'Hey boss,' the young CSI said in greeting. 'Got something for me?'

Grissom picked up the note from the coffee table where Sara had left it and handed it over. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a set of keys, which he also passed to Nick.

'Process the car and note for prints and get the hat to Greg in DNA. I saw a few hairs inside the brim. The hat and all the bindles I collected are tagged and bagged and locked in the trunk.'

'You're not coming?' Nick asked him, slightly surprised.

Grissom looked at Sara, who tried to look impartial.

'I think I'll stick around for a little longer,' Grissom replied.

Shrugging, Nick moved to the door. With a parting glance at Sara, he gave her a reassuring smile.

'Try not to worry. We'll have this cracked in no time.'

'Thanks Nick,' she said gratefully, shutting the door after him.

'Hope you don't mind,' Grissom said softly behind her.

Sara turned to look at him. He looked nervous, but mostly strong and supportive.

'Not at all,' she said sincerely. 'I…'

'What?'

'I feel stupid for admitting this,' she confessed, looking embarrassed. 'But, I don't want to be alone right now.'

'Sara Sidle,' Grissom smiled softly. 'Tough as nails. As enigmatic as the ocean. Finally we see her soft centre,' he kidded her gently.

'Oh, you've seen it before,' she replied, only half kidding him back.

Grissom paused, before nodded an assent. Yes, he had seen it before. And it scared him as much then as it did now.

Tearing his eyes from her face, he took up his previous seat on the couch.

'So, what you were saying before? About not knowing people?'

Sara sighed. 'Where do I start?' She sat back down too, wondering how much to open up to this guarded man sitting opposite her. She already felt so vulnerable to him, but what could a little more hurt? Here he was, finally, listening to her, supporting her, the way she had wanted for a long time. So the timing sucked, but Sara knew better than to expect perfection.

'Melissa Winters?' she started. 'Hank,' Grissom's reaction to the second name was almost imperceptible, but Sara caught it, and it gave her the courage to continue. 'You,' she finished softly.

'Me?' Grissom asked, his voice so soft Sara almost didn't hear the question.

She continued as if she hadn't.

'I'd always prided myself with having some kind of omniscient power to read people. To be able to know if someone is lying. It's the job, right? Follow the evidence, let it lead to the truth. Then I find out I got it so wrong. Melissa lied to me consistently for years and I never picked up on it. And Hank…'

She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.

'Hank strung me along like some kind of…' She looked at Grissom and took a deep breath. 'He already had a girlfriend. For years. And I couldn't tell.'

'Well, they say love is blind,' Grissom remarked ironically. He looked just as uncomfortable as Sara with this subject. He was having a hard time maintaining eye contact.

'Well, that would be great. Mitigating circumstances,' Sara matched his ironic tone with one of her own. 'If only I could use that excuse.'

Grissom looked up at this, surprised.

'You didn't…?'

Grissom's eyes were filled with something Sara couldn't put her finger on. Hope? Relief? She wasn't sure. Before she could figure out his response, his walls came back up and he looked away.

'No, Grissom. I didn't love him,' she said a little sadly. 'He was just… there.'

'That's a little cold,' Grissom remarked.

'Yeah, well,' Sara replied. 'I can be. Sometimes.' She sighed. 'I started dating Hank because I… I was lonely. He seemed nice. But it never really became anything deeper. I never gave it a chance to. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt when I found out he'd been lying to me.'

'A betrayal of trust is a betrayal of trust, no matter who delivers it,' Grissom suggested.

'Yeah, something like that,' Sara replied. 'And there was the fact that my relationship with Hank messed up my relationship with you.'

Silence. Grissom had no idea how to reply to that. He never had any idea how to deal with anything when it came to Sara and their relationship. As teacher and student, supervisor and CSI, he excelled. But when it got deeper than that, more personal, he completely froze up.

'You became so withdrawn from me when you found out I was seeing Hank. You know you did.'

'I know,' was his soft reply.

'Why?' she wanted to know.

Grissom rose, suddenly unable to sit still. He roamed to the window and stood, looking out into the gathering dark, with his back to her.

'I don't know.'

'Sure you do. Just follow the evidence to its logical conclusion.'

He shot her a look over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the view.

'For someone who claims to be bad at reading people, you're awfully confident that you know how my mind works,' he commented wryly. He paused, before decided the best course of action would be to change the subject. 'Jill told Catherine that you were the one who bought the drinks. Your drink never left your sight. Is that true?'

Sara thought for a moment. 'No. I'm pretty sure she bought the drinks.' She thought about it some more, before continuing more confidently. 'Yeah, we got a table, but the waiter was pretty busy,' she began, piecing her memory together. 'I offered to go to the bar, but Jill told me not to be silly. She'd charge the bill to her room.'

'So, she had ample opportunity to slip something in your drink,' Grissom stated.

'I guess,' Sara confirmed. 'And she lied. She lied to Catherine.'

'She also implied that you were edgy, acting suspiciously. Glancing at your watch and looking round a lot.' He turned to face her. 'Trying to plant suspicion in our minds?'

'Well, that she wasn't lying about,' Sara said, looking ashamed. 'I _was_ really uncomfortable.'

'Why?'

Sara shrugged. 'First time in a bar after… my DUI. I kept thinking…' she paused and stole a glance in his direction. 'I kept thinking that you'd be disappointed in me if you knew I was there.'

Grissom regarded her, moving back towards the couch. Sitting down, he leaned towards her.

'Well, I know _now_. And I'm not disappointed.'

'You're not?' Sara looked at him, surprised.

'You went to a bar, but you didn't have a drink,' Grissom told her. 'And it wasn't really your drinking that I was worried about. It was your self-destructive behaviour.'

'You said you weren't worried, you were concerned.'

'That's the same thing, really, isn't it?' Grissom remarked, recalling her saying the same to him only a few weeks before. 'And you put _way_ too much stock in what I say.'

'Seeking validation in inappropriate places,' Sara quoted. 'According to my P.E.A.P. counselor …'

'You should get some sleep,' Grissom told her, avoiding the subject of inappropriate validation. That was definitely a dangerous area to begin discussing.

'So should you. You've been up for more than 24 hours straight,' she replied. 'I can get you a pillow and blanket. You could bed down on the couch… If you want.'

Grissom hesitated. 'I don't think that would be a good idea, Sara.'

'I promise I won't molest you in your sleep,' Sara countered wryly. She flashed him a grin, a little less bright than usual because of everything she'd been through. Then a look of intense vulnerability flashed in her eyes and the smile faded.

'Please, Grissom. I don't want to be alone tonight.'

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Assigning Blame

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Six – Assigning Blame**

Grissom strode into the lab earlier than normal the next day. He had caught a few hours sleep on Sara's couch, before heading home for a shower and change of clothes. Sara assured him that she'd be fine when he left, and that she'd be at work in a few hours. He had protested at first, telling her to take some time off, but she'd refused. She needed to see how this played out.

'I won't touch any evidence, if that will make you more comfortable,' she told him. 'Strictly research.'

Turning into the break-room to get some much needed coffee, he saw Nick and Catherine with their heads together.

'Have you two been here all night?' he asked them.

'No,' Catherine replied, 'Just got here.'

'I got a couple hours sleep and then came back to process the car,' Nick told him. 'Got a sweet little partial on the rear view mirror. Matches the ones we found on the bullets.'

'Still no ID?' Grissom asked him.

'Not yet. And the hairs you found in the hat didn't have skin tags, so no DNA. But I checked out their morphology. Dark hair, maybe shoulder length.'

'Sara's friend Jill has shoulder length dark hair,' Catherine confirmed. 'And there's something about her…'

'She lied when you interviewed her. About Sara buying the drinks,' Grissom told her. 'Sara says Jill put the drinks on her room tab, and it was Jill who went to the bar, not Sara. Maybe its time for another little chat?'

'No can do,' Catherine replied. 'Brass just called me. He went back over to the Tangiers, and Jill's checked out.'

'Damn it,' Grissom replied. 'Any lead on where she might have gone?'

'Not yet, but Brass is getting a warrant for her phone records. I'll have him check out her bill while he's at it. Confirm Sara's story in case any official channels start taking an interest.' Catherine paused, and took a deep breath. 'Which reminds me. Ecklie's looking for you.'

'He can wait,' Grissom replied, not in the mood. 'I've been thinking about the warehouse. Maybe the killer knew it was going to be used a few days after the murder. Maybe that was the point. I think the killer wanted the body found soon, but not too soon.'

'But she wasn't banking on two teenagers finding the body only hours after the murder,' Nick followed his train of thought.

'After a day or two the rohypnol would have been gone from Sara's blood,' Grissom went on.

'And Sara would have been in the frame for murder with no alibi and a ton of evidence against her,' Catherine concluded.

'Hey guys,' Sara greeted them as she walked into the room, apparently not having overheard their conversation. 'Any new leads?'

'Your friend Jill might have skipped town,' Catherine told her. 'Any idea where she might have gone?'

'We got another problem,' Warrick interrupted, walking fast into the room. 'Got the ID on the victim.'

'Why is that a problem?' Grissom wanted to know.

Warrick shot Sara a look full of regret. 'It's Hank Peddigrew.'

* * *

'Damn it,' Sara said, walking into the locker room and slamming her fist into a locker. Grissom was close behind her.

'I'm sorry,' Grissom told her in a soft voice. He remained at the door, giving her space as she roamed the room like a caged animal.

'I don't care about your theory that it was about both of us, Grissom. This is my fault,' Sara told him. 'The killer used _my_ identity to kill Hank. _My_ gun. It was probably even my friend.'

'Sara…' Grissom began, but she cut him off.

'Hank arrived at that warehouse after his killer did. He saw my car. He must have thought he was meeting me. It's my fault, Griss…' Tears threatened in her eyes again, her voice breaking.

'You can't blame yourself,' Grissom told her.

'The hell I can't,' she replied angrily. 'Damn it. I hate this. I hate how out of control my life has become.'

'She only has control on your life if you let her,' Grissom reasoned. 'And you won't. We'll get her, I promise.'

'False promises, Grissom. You don't know that,' Sara shot back. 'And my life was out of control long before any of this happened. Has been for a couple of years now. Ever since…'

She broke off, unsure if she should go on. She looked at him, her vulnerability never more apparent. Grissom watched her, real fear welling up in his heart. He wanted nothing more than to spare her further pain, whatever the cost. Emotions he had long suppressed and shielded himself from were surfacing, and it terrified him.

'I have always been in control of my life, Grissom,' she began slowly. 'Always kept work and personal separate. It was easy. I mean, if you don't have a private life, how can it affect your work, right?' she laughed ironically. 'Then I moved here and everything changed. I started losing my control. My personal feeling started slipping into my working life and I didn't know how to deal with it. Every since my feelings started to deepen for…' she broke off, unable to continue.

'Hank,' Grissom concluded quietly.

'_You_, Grissom,' Sara corrected him. 'It was just a crush, initially. Hero worship. Ever since I met you at that seminar in Berkley. But then I moved here, and I … I allowed myself to get close to you. And everything changed.'

'Sara…' he interrupted, intensely uncomfortable. 'We shouldn't be talking about this. Not here. Not now.'

'Damn it, Grissom, if not here and now, then when and where?' Sara's voice was tight with frustration. 'We've danced around this subject for _4 years_. Ignoring it isn't changing anything. Maybe we need to confront it, head on. Maybe then I can start getting some control back.'

She sat down on a bench, arms wrapped tightly around her in a defensive pose.

'I've never let anyone get close to me. Didn't need to. Until I met you,' she said quietly. 'And it scares the hell out of me. Every mistake I've made; the drinking, Hank, has been born out of that fear. Everything has spiralled out of control since I allowed myself to have feelings for you. And I don't know how to regain the control I used to have.'

Grissom sighed deeply. 'You'll get the control back. It just takes time.'

'Maybe I should just quit. Maybe this is what all this, the set up, has been about. Maybe I'm done here.'

'You're not done,' anger tinged Grissom's voice now. 'Damn it, Sara, you're one of the best CSIs we've got. You're good at what you do. And you're stronger than this.'

'I'm not, Grissom,' she said, defeated. 'I'm not like you. I can't just choose to ignore this.'

'What does _that_ mean?' he demanded.

'I heard you, Grissom,' she told him, looking into his eyes with such sadness he thought his heart would break. 'That case several months ago, Debbie Marlin. The girl who looked like me…'

'How did you…?'

'..Know she looked like me? After you so obviously kept me away from the crime scene? You should know me by now Grissom. I needed to see what you felt you had to protect me from, so I went to the morgue. Saw her face.' She paused, and then slowly turned her face to Grissom, locking her eyes with his. 'And then I went to the interview room when you and Brass interviewed Lurie. I heard what you said to him.'

She rose from the bench and moved away from him. She continued to hug herself as if freezing.

'You described yourself as a sad middle-aged man who had allowed your work to consume your life. Then you talked about being given a second chance with someone you could care about.'

Grissom was unable to speak. He gave a small nod, while watching the beautiful, hurting woman in front of him. Sara still didn't look around, but continued in the same quiet tone.

'You said you had to make a decision. To risk everything you'd worked for, for the chance of a new life. And you couldn't do it.'

'Sara,' Grissom began quietly. 'How did you know? That it was you?'

'You just told me.'

Grissom let out a breath. He didn't know where to go from here, but he knew that now was not the right time for this. Sara had been through enough in the last 48 hours, and dealing with whatever it was between them was not going to help matters.

'Sara, this isn't… you've been through enough. We can deal with… with our problems when all of this is over. It's not the reason any of this is happening.'

Sara turned to look at him, tears gleaming in her dark eyes.

'Isn't it?' She leaned against the wall as though suddenly exhausted. 'I've screwed up big time, Grissom.'

'Stop blaming yourself, Sara.'

'I told her. All of it.' Seeing the confusion that registered on his face, she went on, 'Jill. We've been in regular contact via email for years. Ever since college. I told her everything. About you. About Hank. I completely spilled my guts. I didn't have anyone here I could talk to. So I talked to her.'

'So the notes? She got the information from you?' Grissom needed her to spell it out.

'Yeah,' she sunk back down onto the bench, her head in her hands. 'I'm so sorry, Grissom.'

'Hey,' he said gently, moving towards her. He crouched down in front of her and softly placed a hand under her chin, making her look at him. 'This is not your fault, Sara. You trusted her.'

'Yeah,' she replied, not truly believing his words.

Grissom stood back up and offered Sara his hand, helping her to her feet.

'Now go home,' he insisted. 'Get some rest. I'll drop by your apartment in a little while and check on you.'

For a moment, he thought she would argue, but then she gave him a small nod. 'Thanks, Grissom.'

Moving past him, she picked up her jacket. His voice stopped her at the door.

'You're wrong about one thing, Sara,' he told her in a soft voice. 'I'm the weak one. Not you.'

Not trusting herself to turn around, Sara gave a half shrug and left.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Suspicions

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Seven - Suspicions

Grissom sat for a few moments in the locker room, gathering his thoughts. He had known for a long time that Sara had feelings for him. At first he had put it down to the infatuation that many students have for their teachers. Then he put it down to poor judgement. He thought she'd gotten over it when she'd started dating Hank, and was blindsided when she had asked him out a little over a year ago. He was further blindsided mere months ago when he finally began to acknowledge the depth of his own feelings. He had dismissed his feelings for Sara as foolishness, the simple attraction of a middle-aged man with a pretty girl. But it was so much more than that. And it terrified him.

Leaving the locker room, he ran into the last person he wanted to see – Conrad Ecklie.

'Grissom,' came his self-satisfied voice, 'I've been looking for you.'

'Well, I'm kind of busy right now, Conrad. In the middle of a case,' Grissom said, striding past him.

'That's what I want to talk to you about. Sara Sidle specifically.'

Grissom stopped and turned. 'What about her?'

'Her fingerprint, hair and gun all tie her to this murder. Not to mention, the victim is her ex-boyfriend. Please tell me your, uh, _personal_ relationship with her isn't blinding you to the facts of the case.'

'Nothing is blinding me to the facts of this case, Ecklie,' Grissom said firmly. 'Sara was unconscious at the time of the murder. Drugged with Rohypnol.'

'Very convenient,' Ecklie commented dryly.

Grissom squared up to him, furious.

'No, Ecklie, I think it's definitely not _convenient_ for anyone to be rendered unconscious with a date-rape drug, so that someone can frame them for murder. If you don't have anything constructive to add, I strongly suggest that you say nothing at all.'

Grissom turned on his heel and stormed away.

'Quite a temper on you, Grissom,' Ecklie sneered to his back. 'Maybe we should be looking at you for this murder. Jealous of Sidle's ex, maybe?'

Grissom ignored him and went into his office. Catherine was waiting for him.

'I knew this would happen,' she told him.

'What?' Grissom replied gruffly, circling his desk and sitting down.

'The speculation. Particularly from Ecklie. It's a miracle the Sheriff hasn't been here to breathe down your neck.'

Grissom grunted in reply.

'Is Sara okay?'

'No,' he answered shortly. 'Has her _friend_, Jill, turned up yet?'

Catherine shook her head. 'Not yet. The police are looking for her, but there's no sign. I'm heading out with him now to talk to Hank's girlfriend. Elaine Alcott. Or, maybe I should say ex-girlfriend. Rumour is they were going through some problems.'

'Okay. Let me know how it pans out.'

When Catherine didn't move, Grissom looked up from his paperwork. 'What's on your mind Catherine?' he asked.

'Same thing that's on yours. This is every bit as personally directed towards you as it is Sara.'

'Why do you say that? It's Sara they're trying to set up.'

'Come on, Gil. The notes? The bugs? The fact that your fingerprints and epithelials have wound up on Sara's underwear and the second note?'

'There's an explanation for that. You saw me open the envelope.'

'Sure,' Catherine replied in an even tone. 'You mailed it to yourself so there would be a plausible explanation for your prints turning up on the evidence. And then there's Hank.'

'Catherine…' Grissom began angrily. Catherine cut him off.

'Anyone who knows you knew you were jealous of that guy when he started dating Sara. Christ, even _Ecklie_ knows.'

'You think I did this?' Grissom demanded.

'Of course not, Gil,' she replied, exasperated. 'But don't you see? You're being set up every bit as much as Sara is. And assholes like Ecklie would only be too glad to believe it.'

'Sara told Jill all about me via email,' Grissom told her, his voice calmer now. 'That's where the details for the notes came from.'

'Looks even more likely that Jill's our killer.'

'I still want you to look at the girlfriend. Let's cover all the bases.'

'I'm on it,' Catherine replied, getting to her feet and moving towards the door. Pausing for a moment, she turned back and gave Grissom a long, appraising look.

'What?' he asked.

'You okay?'

Grissom hesitated. 'Ask me when this is over,' he finally replied.

* * *

Sara stepped out of her third shower of the day and towelled off. No matter what she did, so couldn't seem to feel warm or clean today. It didn't matter that Grissom insisted that none of this was her fault. She still felt responsible.

Towel drying her hair, she moved into her bedroom and slipped into a clean t-shirt and jeans. She couldn't believe how much she had revealed to Grissom. Her stomach clenched at the thought of his reaction. He looked so uncomfortable, so confused. She didn't know how to read him, but she figured he wished she had never said anything. Denial was always more comfortable for people like Grissom.

She'd tell him to forget it when she saw him next. Put it down to post-traumatic stress or something. Pre-occupied, she wandered into the living room, trying to decide if coffee would be a good idea for her nerves right now.

She didn't see the woman sitting on her couch at first. Slowly, awareness prickling on the back of her neck, she turned to see Jill sitting there calmly, holding her gun.

'How's your day been, Sara?' she asked, smiling.

Trying to ignore the panic screaming in her mind, Sara tried to work out if she's have time to get to the drawer in the sideboard, where she kept her spare firearm. Oddly Nick's voice floated into her head, asking if she had ever had a gun pulled on her. She'd have to change her previous answer to him. If she lived through this …


	8. Regret

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Eight - Regret

Elaine Alcott sat on a chair across the room from Catherine, clearly devastated. Eyes red with crying, she bravely tried to answer Catherine and Brass's questions.

'I saw him last week. We were engaged, but he had been getting cold feet lately. He wasn't sure he was the 'forever' sort of person,' she told them. 'We decided to have a break from each other for a while.'

'Were you aware of any other women in his life?' Catherine asked.

'There was someone. A few years ago. I…' she hesitated for a moment, 'I never knew her name,' Elaine replied sadly. Catherine shot Brass and uncomfortable look. 'He told me he ended it.'

'And you just let it go?' Brass wanted to know.

'He said it was over. I accepted it. Neither of us were angels in the early days,' Elaine insisted.

'Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Hank?' Catherine asked her. 'Any enemies? Anyone he might have pissed off?'

'No. No one. Hank was one of those guys that everyone liked,' Elaine broke down. 'I can't understand. Why would anyone do this to him?'

* * *

Grissom had sat at his desk for two hours, staring at the same maggot under the microscope. Finally he gave in and left. Now, as he drove to Sara's apartment, he wasn't sure of his real motivation for going there. To see if she was okay? Or just to see her? The confusion that he had felt during the past few years had intensified to the point of desperation. So analytical in his professional life, he was suddenly without the ability to reason. He had no idea where he and Sara would go from here. But he knew that things couldn't continue as they were.

Pulling into a parking space in front of her building, he noticed that her SUV was gone. Looking towards Sara's apartment, he saw the front door ajar. Panicking, he jumped out of his Denali and sprinted up the steps, drawing his gun on the way. Pushing the door the rest of the way open with his foot, he peered in. No one was there. Looking around to make sure, he spotted a now familiar sight waiting for him on the coffee table.

Another note.

_**You once said that nothing's personal. No victim should be special. **_

_**Will you feel the same when you're digging a bullet out of Sara?**_

As he ran back to his car, his cell phone rang. He answered it as he climbed back into his SUV.

'Gil. Brass has just hit pay dirt with his contact in the LAPD,' Catherine's voice came down the line. 'Jill had a TRO issued against her by _Tom Haviland._ She was obsessed with him…'

'Catherine,' Grissom cut her off as he pulled out of the car park. 'Get ahold of Brass and get him over to that warehouse. Jill's got Sara.'

Disconnecting, he flung the phone onto the dash and increased his speed. Horrific visions of a thousand crime scenes flashed across his mind. He couldn't bear the thought that the next one he arrived at would be Sara's. He had wasted so much time. He had hesitated and waited and now fate was forcing his hand. The thought that he had left things too late turned to lead in his stomach. If, somehow, things didn't end in tragedy, he knew he would choose differently in the future.


	9. Hell hath no fury

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Nine – Hell Hath No Fury...

A white light shone into Sara's eyes, almost blinding her. The back of her head throbbed, as she tried to adjust her eyes to the glare. She couldn't remember what had happened at first. Then pieces of it began to flood back to her. Jill with her gun. Being forced at gunpoint out to her car. The sudden pain across the back of her head, as Jill hit her from behind.

Slowly Sara's vision cleared and she could make out Jill's silhouette standing before her, shining a flashlight into her eyes. She could feel a pair of handcuffs digging into her wrists.

'Rise and shine, Sara,' Jill's voice said in the darkness.

'What are you doing, Jill?' Sara asked in a groggy voice. 'Why…'

'Always with the big questions, Sara. Always questioning. Here's one for you,' Jill replied, her tone becoming increasingly enraged. 'What could _you_ have possibly done to piss me off so much that I had to resort to this?'

'How did I piss you off, Jill?' Sara asked, forcing herself to remain calm.

Jill lowered the flashlight slightly, allowing Sara to glimpse her face. Sara had never seen her so… unhinged.

'Well, maybe if you quit _whining_ for _one second_, you might know what's been going on in _my _life,' Jill ranted. 'It's always "_Oh Jill, my life sucks. I work all the time and I don't have a life._ _I have a big hunky boyfriend, but I don't love him and my wonderful, brilliant genius of a boss doesn't know I'm alive…"_ You were never this pathetic in college.'

'You're doing this because I talked too much about my problems?' Sara asked incredulously. 'Christ, Jill, you tell me to shut up. You don't kill a man.'

'Why not?' Jill retorted. 'You took mine away from me. Why shouldn't I deprive you of yours?'

'Hank and I broke up a year and a half ago, Jill. If you wanted to get at me, why didn't you just come at me, instead of killing an innocent man?' Tears began to well in Sara's eyes. She had been right all along. Hank's death had been her fault.

'Oh, he wasn't innocent, Sara. But it wasn't Hank I was planning to deprive you of. He was just the warm up act. To get your attention. Didn't you get my notes?' Jill began to pace up and down, agitated and excited.

'Grissom,' Sara said in a small voice.

'The man you really love,' Jill replied. 'I figured you took the man I love from me, I should return the favour.'

Sara shook her head, trying to figure out what the woman she thought was her friend was talking about.

'Who did I take away from you?'

Jill stopped pacing. She stormed up to Sara and drew back her hand as though ready to slap her.

'Tom!' she raged at Sara.

Slowly, she lowered her hand. Turning away from Sara, she began to pace again.

'Tom?' Sara asked, totally confused now. 'Who the hell is Tom?'

'My _boyfriend_,' Jill yelled at her. 'He was the only man I ever loved. And then you and the two men in your life conspired to put him in jail.'

She stopped pacing and glared at Sara.

'25 to life. I might never get to see him again. All because your boyfriend planted evidence and your beloved boss made up some crap about the scar on Tom's knee.'

Sara's mind was working furiously. Something sounded familiar. Then it clicked.

'Tom Haviland?' Sara asked. 'The movie star? He was your boyfriend?'

'Yes,' Jill replied, sounding totally exasperated by Sara's stupidity.

'Nothing was planted or made up in that case, Jill,' Sara replied reasonably. 'Tom killed those two people. He belongs in jail.'

'No, no, no!' Jill screamed, lunging at Sara. She roughly grabbed Sara by the shoulders and shook her. 'Your _boyfriend_ planted that bra because _you_ told him to!' she yelled. 'And then Grissom made all that other stuff up. And all that crap came out in the press about Tom being with a _man_ that night. No! You made it up to take him away from me!'

'Jill, come on. You gotta know that's not true,' Sara tried to reason with her. 'You… you need help, Jill. Let's just get out of here and we can go someplace and talk.'

'We are talking, Sara,' Jill replied, suddenly calm. 'And finally, you're _hearing _me. Anyway, we can't go now. Not before our guest gets here.'

Alarm bells went off in Sara's mind. She was afraid to ask the question, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. 'Who's coming?'

'I left another little note for your boss. He should be here soon.'

Sara blinked the tears out of her eyes. 'Please, Jill. Don't do this,' she pleaded.

'Well, if those stupid teenagers hadn't come in here and found the body so soon, I wouldn't _have_ to do this, Sara,' Jill told her. 'It should have been a day or two, not a couple of hours. By then the drugs would have been long gone from your system…'

'And I'd have lost my only alibi,' Sara concluded. 'You wanted me to go down for Hank's murder.'

'It would have been poetic justice,' Jill sneered. 'Even with the body being found early, I was still hoping that there'd be enough evidence against you. But your beloved _Grissom_ had to swoop in and get your blood tested for drugs. Otherwise, you'd be in jail and you'd have lost the respect and trust of the one man you actually give a damn about.'

Sara didn't have the words. Everything was falling into place, but nothing made any sense.

'But this will be so much sweeter, Sara,' Jill went on. 'The only problem with my original plan was how passive it was. Cause and effect. All I had to do was sit and wait. I like this better Sara. I'm more of a 'hands on' kind of person.'

'What are you going to do, Jill?' Sara asked, trying to minimise the shaking in her voice.

'I didn't make you watch when it was Hank. Wouldn't have had the same effect. But, Grissom…?' Jill smiled, 'That'll really hurt, won't it?'

A single tear ran down Sara's cheek. She prayed that Grissom wouldn't come to the warehouse. That he'd send the police. That he'd stay away. Deep down, she knew better.

'You lured Hank here, didn't you?' Sara asked, cold fury beginning to well up inside her. 'You pretended to be me.'

'Wasn't hard,' Jill replied, amused. 'He wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, was he? I thought you liked them smart, Sara? I emailed him from your account.'

'How?'

'You're so predicable. I guessed your password on the first attempt. _Newton_,' she said with disdain. 'Asked him to meet you… I mean, me, here. Said we needed to talk. When the idiot turned up, I let him walk in past me. Got a clear shot at his back. He never saw it coming.'

Tears slid freely down Sara's face now. She didn't recognise this person in front of her anymore. Panic seized her with the realisation that she was completely helpless. She could no more save Grissom that she could have saved Hank. A sob of despair escaped her throat.

Jill looked at her with disgust. She circled around behind her captive and placed the gun to Sara's temple.

'So much for the tough-girl act,' she sneered. 'A girl with your background should have realised long ago that she was destined to end up alone.'

'So, then just kill me, Jill. Get it over with,' Sara choked. 'But leave Grissom out of it.'

'Where would be the fun in that?' Jill replied. 'I want you to finally realise how alone you really are before you die.'

'She's not alone,' said a voice from the doorway.


	10. Like a Woman Scorned

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter Ten - ...Like a Woman Scorned**

Grissom stood by the open door, his gun drawn and pointed straight at Jill's head. In all her ranting and pacing, she hadn't heard him enter the warehouse.

'Let Sara go, Jill,' Grissom told her in a firm but quiet voice. 'Just put the gun down and we can talk.'

Jill pressed the gun tighter to Sara's head, causing her to inhale sharply. Involuntarily, Grissom took a step forwards.

'Sara and I have already been talking, Mr Grissom,' she told him. 'I've told her how this is going to end.'

'Killing me and Sara won't bring Tom back into your life, Jill,' Grissom told her. At the name, Jill's head snapped up. She glared at him with loathing.

'Don't even say his name. You and this bitch took him away from me! And its time you both paid for it!' she screamed at him.

'You loved him very much, didn't you Jill?' Grissom said in the same calm tone. He kept steady eye contact with Jill, trying to get her to engage with him, to draw her attention away from Sara. 'But he didn't feel the same way, did he? That must have hurt.'

Jill was shaking with rage now. The barrel of the gun jumped violently against Sara's temple. Sara tried to keep as still as possible, hoping that Grissom knew what he was doing.

'He did love me!' Jill raged. 'He was just… he was just confused.'

'It can be confusing for men sometimes,' Grissom replied reasonably. 'A beautiful woman expresses an interest in us, and the first thought that enters our minds is that it's too good to be true. So we figure it probably isn't…'

'Don't do that,' Jill told him. 'Don't compare what Tom and I have to you and Sara. Don't think I don't know. This pathetic dance you've led her over the years. Tom and I weren't like that.'

'The TRO tells a different story,' Grissom replied.

Sara thought she heard a car approaching. She prayed it would get there before Grissom enraged Jill enough to gun them both down.

Grissom kept on at her. 'And guys like Tom Haviland don't get confused when a beautiful woman is attracted to him. He just expects it. A different girl every night, Jill. That's all you were to him. Just another conquest.'

'Shut up!' Jill screamed at him.

In her fury, she pulled the gun away from Sara's head and pointed it towards Grissom.

Sara screamed. A gun reported. The acrid smell of gun powder filled the air.

Then he was there in front of her, holding her as she cried. Over his shoulder she saw Catherine and Brass enter the warehouse, guns drawn.

Somehow, the handcuffs binding her were unlocked and she was in his arms. Grissom held her as though he was afraid she would disappear if he let her go. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he felt her wince. When he drew his hand away, he saw a trace of blood.

'We should get you checked out, Sara,' he told her gently. He held her away from him slightly so that he could take a look at her. 'You might have a concussion. Did she hurt you anywhere else?'

'I don't think so,' Sara said. She felt breathless and light-headed, and wasn't sure if it was due to the head injury or the fact that Grissom had been holding her. 'The side of my head, maybe? From the gun.'

He looked and saw an angry, purple bruise beginning to form on her temple. Sara was still shaking like a leaf.

'The paramedics should be here any minute,' Brass told them. He was leaning over Jill, checking for a pulse.

Jill was unconscious, a single gunshot wound to the brachial plexus in her shoulder had knocked her off her feet and she had hit her head. She'd live and would be well enough to face charges of murder and attempted murder in no time, according to Brass.

After they had loaded Jill into an ambulance, and another had arrived for Sara, Grissom leaned back against the warehouse wall, the realisation of what had just happened finally sinking in.

'You did good,' Catherine said, approaching him after seeing Sara safely into the ambulance.

Grissom didn't reply.

'Hey, you had no choice, Gil,' Catherine went on. 'Actually, you did. You could have made a kill shot. You didn't. You did the right thing.'

'Never doubt and never look back,' Grissom quoted her. 'If only I had lived my life by your mantra before tonight.'

* * *

'Turns out, Jill really did have a relationship, of sorts, with Tom Haviland,' Brass told them, as the whole team sat round the table in the break room the next day.

'They met at a party her PR firm threw, 3 years ago,' he continued. 'Apparently they spent the night together and as far as Tom was concerned, that was it.'

'But it wasn't for Jill,' Catherine filled in the blanks.

'Next thing, Tom has a TRO out on her. One way to refuse a girl's advances.'

'She was stalking him?' Nick wanted to know.

'Phone calls. Turning up at his house, at all his premieres. Poor guy,' Brass added sarcastically.

'She must have been a complete whack-job,' remarked Warrick.

'Sociopath with psychotic tendencies,' Grissom informed them. 'And she'd been treated with border-line personality disorder several years ago.'

'In college,' Sara's voice interjected. She had been so quiet during the conversation they had almost forgotten that she was there. 'That's where we met. Campus counselor. She said she was there because she was depressed.'

'Hell, who isn't,' remarked Nick.

Grissom watched the enigmatic woman sitting across the room from him, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. She strove to raise so many barriers around her. She had never mentioned seeing a counsellor in college, but then he knew so little about her life before she moved to Las Vegas. Hell, he knew so little about her personal life here. She kept so much to herself. But then, Grissom thought, so did he. They were both such closed people. Both in need of a life outside of the horrors they saw in their professional lives.

Brass went on with his summary. 'The LAPD checked her out for us. One week after Tom Haviland was found guilty here in Vegas, she took out a membership with a local gun club. Practiced a couple times a week. They also found a ton of books and journals on forensics. Some of the subscriptions date back to a month after the trial.'

'She's been planning this for _two years_?' Nick asked, incredulous.

'Revenge is a dish best served cold,' remarked Grissom. 'She wanted everything to be prefect.'

'You know, after college we emailed each other a couple times a year,' Sara said, thinking out loud. 'No more than every three or four months. Must have been nearly two years ago, she started writing a lot more often. Every month, then almost every week. I didn't think anything of it. I appreciated having someone to talk things out with. I'd been feeling pretty lonely...'

'Sara, you've always got us,' Nick told her, placing his hand over hers.

She flashed him one of her smiles. 'Thanks Nick. But, when it came down to it, I felt more comfortable talking to someone remotely. I could tell her what was going on in my life, because I didn't have to look her in the eye. The problem's with me, not with you guys.'

'It's easier to wear your heart on your sleeve when you're not looking in the other person's eyes,' commented Grissom, recalling something Sara had once said to him.

Sara looked at him, their eyes meeting. For once, he didn't drop his gaze.

'Yeah,' she replied. 'Something like that.'

Sara regarded the people sitting around the table with her. _It could be a lot worse_, she thought. Here was a group of people who cared about her, not just professionally but personally. Despite the fact that she had done her best to keep them at arms length and not form any ties here in Las Vegas, they still felt attached to her. She had never made an effort to mix with them socially, preferring to keep it all business. Instead, she had chosen to hold onto earlier, more distant ties. And where had that gotten her?

'You guys have been great,' she told them, unable to fully express the affection she felt for them all at this moment. 'I can't tell you how…' she broke off, her voice beginning to choke up.

'Hey, girl,' Catherine told her, 'you're one of us.'

'And we always look out for our own,' Warrick finished the sentiment.

'Well, it really means a lot,' she replied.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	11. epilogue

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

* * *

**Epilogue**

Grissom sat in the SUV staring at Sara's apartment building. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but it was still dark when he got there and now the cold early morning light had begun to hint at another day of brilliant sunshine.

He didn't know what he was waiting for. He knew what he wanted. It had taken a long time to reach this place, and still he waited. Hesitation had become second nature, he mused. His excuse, pitiful as it was, was that he still thought he might have left it too late.

With a deep breath, he got out of the Denali. His knock on the front door was answered in moments. Sara was up early, as always.

'Hey,' she greeted him, flashing her brilliant smile. 'Checking up on me?'

'In a manner of speaking,' Grissom replied, giving her a small smile. 'May I come in?'

'Sure,' Sara replied, stepping back to allow him access.

Inside, Grissom's eyes zeroed in on a framed picture on the coffee table that he hadn't seen before. It was of the whole team, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Greg, Sara and himself, probably taken at the previous year's Christmas party in the break room.

'Nice photo,' he commented.

Sara smiled, looking at it. 'Yeah. I had it in a drawer, but… I figured I do have some friends in this town after all. I guess I've been isolating myself long enough.'

'I know the feeling,' Grissom replied quietly.

'So, I figure I'll be good to come back to work tomorrow. I'm feeling okay, and I'm better off working anyway, so…'

'Sara,' Grissom cut her off. 'I'm actually not here to talk about work.'

'Go figure,' Sara replied wryly. 'Do you, uh, talk about anything else?' she joked.

Grissom let out a sigh and Sara's smile faded. She could see he was serious about something and if it wasn't work, then she was worried.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'Nothing,' replied Grissom. 'And, everything.'

'Okay. Well, that wasn't at all cryptic.'

'Sara, I…' Grissom paused. He had no idea how to start.

'Gris, you're making me nervous. Spit it out,' Sara told him.

He turned to her and smiled. He took a step closer.

'Would you like to have dinner with me?' he asked.

Sara was stunned. 'What? Why?'

'Because you're hungry? Because you want to? Because…' Grissom took a deep breath. 'Because I want to see what happens.'

'Grissom…' Sara started uneasily.

'Sara,' he cut her off again. 'I finally know what to do about this.'

He stopped, scared to say more. _Stop hesitating_, a voice inside him said.

'Please tell me I'm not too late.'

Neither of them spoke. Grissom's words raced around in her mind. She had given up hope long ago, when she heard him say he wouldn't take the risk for her. But now, he stood before her, baring his heart in a way she had never dreamed of.

Grissom was about ready to admit defeat when, slowly, Sara raised a hand gently to his face and held it there.

'No, Grissom,' she told him. 'You're not too late.'

A small laugh broke free from him, a combination of relief and complete joy. Slowly he raised his own hand to her cheek and savoured the warmth of her skin under his touch. When she flashed him that brilliant smile again, he felt his heart would burst. Unable to wait a moment longer, he leaned towards her, tasting her smile. The warmth that spread through his heart was breath-taking. It felt as though he had never truly been alive before this moment. Drawing Sara closer to him, he embraced her with every ounce of himself, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Sara responded with passion that equalled his.

_So this is what it feels like to live a life without regret_, he thought. _Catherine was right. It's the only way to live._

* * *

**THE END.**


End file.
